


change of heart

by riczi (waved)



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 01:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4941787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waved/pseuds/riczi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She turns back just for a moment, to see if he's still there, to see if he didn't leave her to get raped and humiliated. Veronica can just see the hem of his trench coat, but it does nothing to quell her anxiety. She tucks the gun into her skirt when she hears footsteps from afar.</p><p>[A series of works based on if Veronica agreed with the way JD thought.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Hey, ah, do you take German?" JD asks suddenly. He and Veronica are planning their revenge of sorts on Kurt and Ram.

"Yeah, why?" Veronica answers innocently.

Well shit.

There goes his plan.

"How bad do you think it'll be if we killed them?"

"Oh, Jesus Christ."

* * *

 

The metal is cold in her hands. It's heavy. The weight of it sends shivers down her spine, makes knots in her stomach. Her hands shake, almost imperceptibly, but she can still feel it.

"I'll be behind the trees," JD told her, flashing his own gun with a smile. She turns back just for a moment, to see if he's still there, to see if he didn't leave her to get raped and humiliated. Veronica can just see the hem of his trench coat, but it does nothing to quell her anxiety. She tucks the gun into her skirt when she hears footsteps from afar.

She gets them excited, gets them to strip, gets them to count down with her. On three — not even, she thinks with a delayed grin — JD steps in with his gun. She has hers out in a flash, aims as well as she can while the jocks panic —

JD's gun goes off and a hole of red appears in Ram's chest.

Her own fires not long after. She misaims, hits Kurt's shoulder, but in another moment, she's reloaded, re-aimed, he's just started to flee when she pulls the trigger again.

_BAM._

He falls, blood dripping down his neck.

"Holy shit," she whispers, then turns to look at JD with a breathless grin. Her heart is pounding at a hundred miles a minute, she can barely breathe, and she's _exhilarated_. She starts laughing, out of nowhere, and the gun is still in her hands —

Standing over Ram's corpse, she aims the gun at his forehead, still smiling, heart still racing, and the only reason she doesn't fire is because JD pulls her away.

"Don't you think it'll be suspicious if he has two bullet holes?" he asks, gently grasping her wrist. "Kurt already has 'em." Nonetheless, he smiles at her.

"O-oh..." She licks her lips, then steps away from Ram, putting the gun back inside her skirt. "Right. Good point." She nods, more to herself than anything.

"Well, that was an experience," she comments once they've made it a good distance from the — not the crime scene, no, that makes her sound guilty, the place of the _suicide_.

JD just nods. He finds her hand, takes it in his, squeezes gently.

"Who's next?" he questions.

"Slow down there, buddy," she says with a snort. "This will be the second — third? — suicide within two months. That's a little much, no matter how depressed the kids of Westerburg might allegedly appear to be."

She doesn't let go of his hand.

"Wait a little bit. What… what about Duke?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She feels an itch in her gut. How many students went to Westerburg? Thousands, she thinks. The grin spreading on her lips is unintentional.

"…ronica. …Veronica?"

Veronica lets out a quiet mewl, nuzzling her cheek against JD's thigh — the rough fabric of his jeans rubs her sensitive skin raw. Sleep still claws gently underneath her eyelids, weighting them, keeping them closed. She mumbles a tired "what?" against him, turning her head so her face is pressed against the softness of his shirt and stomach. The gentle warmth of him and the fire behind her is nice. She almost falls back asleep, but JD's voice breaks through her haze once more.

"Veronica, I think we have to go."

She blinks, once, twice, repeatedly until the weight leaves her eyes and they stay open on their own accord. She even forces herself to sit up; she rests her chin on his shoulder, fighting back a yawn.

"Mmm, why?" she mumbles. The tips of JD's hair flutters when she speaks, dancing from her stale breath.

"Authorities," he whispers. His lips have found her cheek, chapped and rough but gentle.

"Kiss me first," she demands. And he does. He complies every time she asks, and his hand is on her jaw now, urging her mouth open with his thumb so he can slide his tongue against hers.

"How are we gonna get out of this?" she questions when she pulls away. She wipes a drop of saliva from his chin. She's no longer tired; her eyes ache slightly, but she doesn't feel the need to close them. She's awake and aware, ready to fight or flee at a moment's notice. His kisses do that. He turns her into another creature, wild and dangerous. She loves it.

"No idea," JD says with a careless grin, the beginning of a laugh stuck deep in his chest.  "There's too much of a chance we won't. _But…_ " He rubs her cheek, brings her closer so he can kiss her deeply again. "What kind of hopelessly-in-love teenagers would we be if we didn't, ah, skip a pep rally to fuck around?"

"I like the way you think," she replies with a slight wiggle of her brows, then stands, holding out a hand to help JD up from the ground. Once he's up, Veronica turns to look at the mess of her old school behind her. She and JD stayed a good distance away — far enough to not be noticed, but close enough to see the school collapse, cave in on itself, _fall._ The fire is still going, despite firefighter's attempts to douse it. In the distance, behind clouds of smoke, she sees a faint pulse of blue and red: police.

"We did good," JD whispers to her. He's about to kiss her again, maybe give her a few hickies, but she tugs on his hand to get him to move. They can't stay. They'll be caught.

She feels an itch in her gut. How many students went to Westerburg? Thousands, she thinks. The grin spreading on her lips is unintentional.

Still, she's grateful Martha tried to off herself — because she did, she wasn't here. She wasn't here to die underneath the bombs, the rubble. She's safe. Veronica doesn't have to suffer through the guilt of her death.

Oh, but Betty —

Veronica stops abruptly.

_Betty._

She whirls around, wrenching her hand from JD's, and watches the remains of Westerburg High. She half expects Betty to crawl from the debris, point a charred finger at her — _You. You did this to us — to **me**! You, Veronica, you deserve to be here, **too**._

Veronica shudders, curls in on herself, and forces JD to embrace her. His arms wrap around her waist without a word.

…and what about Heather? Duke is long dead — a slash to her throat and her copy of Moby Dick — annotated to death, of course — in her hand did the trick. But McNamara… was she there?

"I don't regret it." Veronica whispers to herself. "I don't. I don't." She buries her mouth in JD's chest so he can't hear. What kind of girlfriend would she be if she regretted something as monumental as this — something so desperately important to him — moments after it was committed?

She doesn't regret the death of Chandler, of Kurt and Ram, of Duke, of the whole goddamn student body. She can live with that. But her _friends_ — Betty, Martha, McNamara, — can she live with _those_ deaths? She doesn't know. She's stuck.

She doesn't even _know_ if McNamara came to school today. Hell, the girl could have tried to kill herself again and Veronica would be blissfully unaware. Was this how relationships were supposed to work? Were they supposed to be so wonderfully intertwined, ignoring everything around them? Was she supposed to have anyone else other than him? She doesn't see why she would, but then why does she care about Betty? Martha? Heather?

At least she doesn't have school to worry about anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is a MESS honestly

**Author's Note:**

> comment or whatever if i should continue this? its meant to be a one shot but i can do more.


End file.
